"Roger that," Rae responded to Marga, trying to keep her tone upbeat. But frankly, she was pretty damned scared. She hated admitting fear; she'd always been the brave one, but running around alone down here with all the zombies in her peripheral vision was just… less appealing now than it usually was, somehow. She put the walkie back in her belt and made to leave the area when she heard the scream. It was… blood-curdling.
She froze at first, eyes darting about wildly trying to find the source. She may have had a big self-preservation reflex, but at the same time, she had a save other people reflex, so if she could see the person? She'd try. But she couldn't.
She turned for the drugstore, and was about to go in when she heard her name being called from up in the rafters… where she'd left Marga. "Fuck!" she shouted, completely abandoning the bag of supplies that she'd gathered from the drugstore, turning on her heel and running back for the security office. She was a third of the way there when she heard the walkie giving off static, telling her that someone was trying to talk to her. Shit! Shit, shit… "I'm coming, I'm coming, Marga!" she shouted, hoping that Marga could hear her. "I'm not leaving you there, okay?"
Her AK was ready halfway up the stairs and before she even reached the top, she was taking out every single infected bastard that was pounding on the door. She was not losing her friend to this. Not because of some stupid plan of hers that hadn't worked.
One by one, the infected fell and when the final one finally hit the floor, she walked toward the door, swallowing thickly before knocking. "It's me, Marga, it's me. Are… are you…" she didn't finish that sentence, because she hated asking people if they were okay. Especially now, in situations like this, it seemed inappropriate. "Let me in…" she suggested.